


I will be your gravity

by captainhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Friends to Lovers, Keith goes blind, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Team as Family, unbetaed we die like women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 22:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17170385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Keith's life has been about surviving and he's tired. He wants to start living.





	I will be your gravity

__Shine on me tonight  
I will be your gravity  
I will stay and never leave  
My satellite  
Are you here tonight?  
Shine your light and set me free  
Take the darkness out of me  
Shine on me

_ \- Starset: Satellite _

 

_ * ~ *  _

 

Keith’s life is a series of losses. It’s his mother first, nameless, faceless, leaving nothing behind but sorrow, carved deep into the face of Keith’s face. Keith never learns what happened to her and why she left. Keith is eleven months old.  

 

It’s his father next, his number one hero, who had carried Keith on his shoulders and showed him the world. His father, his hero, a fierce firefighter. He loses his life doing his duty, his job. Keith is seven years old. 

 

After that, it’s a string of homes, a layer after layer of bitter taste on Keith’s tongue. He keeps his sorrow locked in his heart, pushes out anger and anger and anger and makes it into an armour, hard and dark enough to last any blows. And he lasts. Through foster families who never have the energy to love him. Through years of trying to find his own way. He’ll survive on his own. 

 

He’ll survive.

 

Keith’s life has been a series of losses so when he gains his first friends, he expects them to leave too.

 

But - they go through high school together: snarky little Pidge, flirty frustrating Lance, kind and smart Hunk. Keith finds himself loving them all. They love him right back, as Pidge huffs between late night study sessions and Lance during the times when they get drunk together for the first time. They go to the same damn college.

 

Keith loves them.

 

He still thinks, somewhere deep inside, right where he has locked away his grief and pain, right there he thinks another loss is coming up. 

 

But he lets himself love them: like he loves Allura, the queen bee of their college, who has high hopes of becoming a diplomat. Like Keith loves Shiro, a fellow future aerospace engineer. Like - Keith loves Shiro like he loves nobody else. Keith’s love for the others is a warm hug and a mug of tea, a kiss on the cheek and drunken karaoke. Keith’s love for Shiro is the universe itself, sparkling with stars and coiling around his heart like a galaxy. 

 

Too bad Shiro doesn’t know. 

 

*

 

The summer of that year is scorching hot and Keith boils in the library. He had snagged the spot only thanks to Pidge’s scientist father Sam and has no ambitions to work there in the future. It’s good money for the summer and for Keith’s studies.

 

He groans and lets his forehead drop against the bookshelf. A sweatdrop runs down his spine, leaving him damp and uncomfortable. His rugged old t-shirt is stuck to his skin but he still wipes his fingers on it. The books go to their proper places on the shelf. Their spines swim in Keith’s eyes, the red and the brown and the black blur, the letters become an unreadable mess. 

 

Keith blinks. Fuck, this heat is not doing him any favours. Who should he even complain to that it’s not good to work like this? At least his only co-worker behind her counter has a table fan. 

 

Keith rubs his eyes. The letters return to their normal places. The soft blur remains, like someone had taken photoshop to his real life and rubbed the edges of with a blur tool. Keith rubs his eyes again. Fuck. Hopefully he isn’t getting sick. 

 

“Hey Nina!” He says after he returns from the bookshelf to his co-worker. 

 

She’s a plump middle-aged lady, truly sweet but she loves talking too much. “Oh, darling,” she says. “You look awful. You know, you can go home for today. You look ready to fall.” So does she, but she takes it in a stride. 

 

Keith’s legs quiver. “You sure?” He fiddles with the handle of the book cart, now empty. He wants to drown in his bathtub. And then call Shiro. Or go to Shiro’s: Shiro has the luxury of sharing a cozy two bedroom apartment with Allura, as both are rich kids of their rich parents. And there’s air-conditioning. 

 

Nina waves her hand. “Boy, go home before you fall over. I can handle the rest of the day.” 

 

Keith thanks her, goes up the stairs to the locker room and drinks half a liter of water. He coughs. Honestly, what’s wrong with him today? It’s like he can’t focus, head stuffed full of cotton. He changes his clothes and slathers himself with sunscreen. Leaving his long legs and muscled arms bare is probably a bad idea under the scorching sun, but Keith doesn’t give a fuck. He’s hot and he hates it: he might have born in a desert but at least there had been wind, the humidity perfect. In the city? The heat is dry, unyielding.

 

Keith makes his way to the bus and takes a seat at the very end. He closes his eyes and calls Shiro.

 

Of course Shiro answers. He always does. Shiro’s working for the summer in his father’s company but he tends to have afternoons off. 

 

_ “Hi!” _ Shiro is enthusiastic, cheerful. Keith likes to think it’s all because of him. 

Keith’s mouth twitches. “Hi, big guy.” Keith keeps his eyes closed behind his sunglasses, lets himself drown in the smooth cadence of his best friend’s voice. 

_ “You sound down.” _ Of course Shiro would notice.  _ “Is everything okay? Did you get off work already?”  _

Keith sucks his lip. “Yeah, I did. It’s unbearable. The heat, that is.” The corners of his eyes prickle suspiciously. He rubs his eyes again. Dammit, how badly did he sleep? “I just feel like shit. Are you home?” 

 

“Yes! It’s just me, Allura has evening classes. You can come over. You know my door’s always open for you.” 

 

Keith can practically hear Shiro smile. Warmth spreads inside Keith’s chest that has nothing to do with the boiling heat outside. “I’ll be around soon.” 

 

“I have ice cream,” Shiro says sweetly. “See you, Keith.” He waits for Keith to hang up first, as usual. 

 

Keith opens his eyes and lowers his phone. He stuffs his earbuds back in his ears and presses play. Thirteen stops until Shiro. Instead of the nausea inside, Keith focuses on thoughts of his treasured friend. Preferring Shiro over the rest of them feels a little like cheating, but Keith can’t help it. With Shiro, he’s home. 

 

Through nausea and blur and the blinding light Keith finds his way to Shiro’s door. The building and all of its apartments are delightfully air-conditioned so Keith feels a little more like a human being when he knocks. Shiro opens the door almost immediately and pulls him close. 

“Oh buddy, you look nauseated. Come on, sit down. Do you want to take a shower? I can borrow you clothes.” Shiro keeps his palm, his big, warm palm on Keith’s lower back as he leads him inside. 

 

Keith shrugs off his cap and sunglasses, kicks off his sneakers. “That’d be nice. Sorry if you were doing something, I just - “ wanted to see you. “Your place is the closest. And I really wanna take a nap:” 

 

The edges of Keith’s vision blur. Is it tears? Is it exhaustion? There had been things like these before, symptoms of nights slept badly, spent too long by computer screens. So Keith doesn’t worry. Keith lets his frustration boil. 

 

“Keith?” Shiro’s arm is around his shoulders, keeping him upright. Shiro’s eyes are an ashen grey, faint black bags under his eyes betraying his own exhaustion. 

 

Keith shrugs Shiro’s arm off and nods. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I’ll take a shower. Give me some clothes to borrow, will you? If you have anything that fits me.” He offers a smile. Shiro answers it with one of his own, carefully. 

“Of course. Well, everything I own is probably a bit too big for you but I’m pretty sure I have some sweats or t-shirts,” he murmurs, leads Keith to the bathroom. “Take all the time you need. Although if you take too long, I’ll have to check up on you.” 

 

Keith huffs. “Mother hen.” 

The corners of Shiro’s eyes crinkle. He nudges Keith gently. “Brat. The towels are in the cupboard. Just take one of mine.”

Keith goes into the spacious bathroom, neatly divided into Allura’s stuff and Shiro’s stuff. Everything is so neat, completely different to Keith’s overcrowded dorm room. The lights are so bright. Keith squints as he stands underneath the showerhead and closes his eyes. The water is cool. His skin rises to goosebumps. He focuses on his breathing. In and out. Eyes closed, he can ignore the tiredness of his eyes, in his limbs. He uses Shiro’s forest-scented shower gel, the shampoo smelling like fresh citrus. The warmth inside his chest lingers. 

 

Keith leaves the bathroom, wrapped up in one of Shiro’s fluffy white towels, that are emblazoned with a roaring lion’s head. Shiro appears, holding a pile of clothes and a tall glass filled with more ice cubes than water.

They smile at each other, soft and small. Keith’s heart aches. “Thanks,” he says. 

“You’re welcome, buddy,” Shiro says and gives both the glass and the pile to Keith. Shiro pats his shoulder. “Come watch a movie with me then if you’d like? I’ll cook something later. Unless you’re hungry now?” 

Keith shakes his head. He takes a big gulp of water and goes to Shiro’s bedroom, invades that private space with the confidence of a best friend. Keith drops his towel and begins to dress. As most of Shiro’s clothes, these ones are soft and smell like him. The sweatpants need a lot of tightening around the waist, Keith has to roll up the pantlegs but they’re warm and soft and incredibly comfortable. The t-shirt goes all the way to his thigh. 

 

Surrounded by Shiro’s scent and Shiro’s presence, Keith’s anxiety drifts away. He picks up the towel and glances around himself. He’s been in Shiro’s room often enough before to know where everything is, but seeing it all still makes him smile. The little glowing stars on the ceiling. The huge map of a star system on one wall. A whole wall of polaroids and other photos of Shiro and his friends through his life. Keith smiles at seeing himself be a part of many of them. 

 

“Keith?” 

 

Keith flinches. “Oh, shit, didn’t hear you. Sorry. I got lost in staring at the photos.” He turns to find Shiro smiling at him. 

 

“They’re pretty cool, aren’t they? I’m hoping to fill the entire wall. It was a little sad with just me and my family. And Allura of course.” Shiro takes him by the hand, like the most natural thing in the world, and leads him to the living room. They sit down on the couch. Shiro turns the channel, twirling the remote in his prosthetic fingers. He smiles at Keith again, head tilted. “You look better.” 

 

Keith pulls his knees to his chest and blames the warmth on his cheeks on his hot shower. “I don’t know what kinda laundry detergent you use but your clothes are always so soft.” He watches the Netflix selection screen appear, misses the flash of pink on Shiro’s cheeks. 

 

“You look good in them,” Shiro murmurs. Then he clears his throat. “I’ll tell you my secrets. Now, what are we on the mood for?” He adjusts himself and lounges on the couch like a tiger warming himself in the afternoon sun. His shirt rides up to reveal a flash of muscle and the tiniest bit of softness on his stomach. 

 

Keith averts his eyes. “Mmmm. No rom-coms, no matter how much you wanna watch them for Chris Evans - “ he grins at his friend when Shiro huffs. 

“Don’t shame me, he’s beautiful.”

 

“Comedy?” Keith stretches his long legs on the couch too, tugs them against Shiro’s side. 

Shiro nods. “Your wish is my law, buddy.” 

 

So they watch. Keith watches the movie, watches Shiro and knows he’s in trouble. Shiro has the kind of face that deserves songs, the kind of a presence that calms down the most anxious of minds. Shiro is a sun and Keith is just a meager little planet, in his orbit. 

 

The movie is vaguely funny. The next one is legitimately hilarious. Laughter bubbles inside Keith, to this day surprising himself with the ability to even do so. Maybe he’s just conditioned to it over years of being subjected to Lance’s bad jokes, Pidge’s puns, Hunk’s nudges and winks of barely held back giggles. Maybe it’s just Shiro, who makes Keith feel things he doesn’t know the names of. 

 

Keith’s life has been molded by loss, his bitterness, his anger, his fears made by the losses he has suffered. Yet he’s let Shiro in, the rest of his friends in. He’s even told them all he loves them, one time when they had all taken tequila shots and had made Hunk sob for the next fifteen minutes straight. It had been one of the hardest things Keith has ever said. 

 

He keeps those three words in his heart, right next to where he has buried his sorrow for his late father and his lost mother. I love you. I love you. Had his mother said those words to him? Had his father? 

 

Affection doesn’t come easy to Keith, it leaves his heart clenching, his palms sweaty. It’s worse around Shiro - yet Shiro still makes everything better. Keith wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

*

 

Keith sleeps over at Shiro’s a couple of times a week. It’s rarely planned but it still happens. Shiro’s bed is more comfortable than Keith’s own. Stumbling around in the dark has made Keith stub his toe on Shiro’s wardrobe often enough that Shiro has moved it. Shiro has even bought him a pillow, better for Keith’s haphazard sleeping style. 

 

Keith had murmured his thanks into sleeping Shiro’s shoulder. 

 

Shiro is perfect, even when he wakes up with morning breath and gets grumpy without a morning coffee and a morning smoothie. Shiro is perfect even when he fucks up an exam and doesn’t remember to reply to a text and leaves dirty socks everywhere. 

 

**

 

The night is dark and Keith hates that Lance, his roommate of two years, leaves his shit lying everywhere. Keith’s toes ache but he doesn’t want to wake up Lance. 

 

Keith sleeps well himself and doesn’t pay attention to the way his sight wavers, just a little by his peripheral vision. It’s nothing. He’s just tired and stressed.

 

*

 

Keith continues to love Shiro, all by himself. They go to the movies together and don’t call it a date, suffer awkwardly through Lance’s teasing and nudging and tease him right back about mooning after Allura. Allura tosses her long, thick braid over her shoulder and smiles serenely. 

 

Keith goes to his classes and seats himself closer to the front. There has been a niggling suspicion at the back of his mind for the past few days, something he can’t no longer ignore. It’s just not the lights. Not just his exhaustion. He can’t really make out the screen or the blackboard from the back of the glass anymore. There is a blur at the edge of his vision. 

 

Keith doesn’t tell his friends. This will go away, right? Maybe he’ll need glasses. It’s not the end of the world. Keith squints at the screen and studies hard, dreams of space, dreams of Shiro. It’s all going to be fine. 

 

Keith shoves his fears into the little box of sorrows, held deep in his heart and lives on. 

 

*

 

Keith books an appointment with an eye doctor and tells himself it’s just standard. Maybe red rimmed glasses would fit him. Maybe they’ll make him smarter- like Lance would say. Since Shiro is the only one who shares the most classes with Keith, it’s not surprising it’s him who notices the change in Keith’s demeanour first. 

 

“Why are you Googling glasses?” Shiro whispers next to him, a worried form forming on his face. 

Keith licks his lips and quickly changes tabs. “Ah - I was - I figured I would check out what - “ Keith twitches. He glances at his friend. 

Shiro tilts his head, questioning. 

 

Keith sucks his lip. “I think I’m gonna need glasses. I have an appointment soon.” 

 

Shiro’s lips part, a little oh. His voice lowers. “Are you having trouble with your vision? Is this why you’ve been sitting closer to the front?” He smiles, encouraging. Shiro and his stupid face. 

 

There is a crack on the little table in front of Keith. There are remains of some faded marker drawing. Keith’s jaw locks. “Yeah. Well. It’s not a big deal. I don’t think I have been to the eye doctor since I was like six.” Father’s big hand in his. A sticker afterwards. It had featured an astronaut. 

 

Shiro squeezes his shoulder. “I’m sure it will be fine. You’d look  - “ A strange pause. “Good in glasses. I’m sure. You’ve been working too hard anyway. You need to take more breaks.” Another shoulder squeeze and another smile. 

 

Keith huffs and goes for a little elbow nudge. “Alright, you mother hen.” Shiro’s kindness is a little too much sometimes. Even years later, even now, Keith can’t quite figure out the ways of friendship, much less the ways of love. No one else has made him feel this way. 

 

“Now let’s focus,” Shiro murmurs and turns towards the wildly gesturing lecturer. 

 

*

 

Through his twenty-one years of life, Keith has drowned his partly self-imposed into his hobbies. He had taken up various martial arts, had gone to numerous introductory classes and only stuck up with taekwondo. He has started knitting and discarded it. He has started drawing and painting and stuck with those. He could paint landscapes of the world and of the human body with his eyes closed. 

 

Slowly he pours pieces of his hidden sorrow into his drawings and paintings, lets little love sprinkle on his sketches of his friends and their teachers. Their college blooms under his pen, life translated from the real world into pen and paper and his tablet screen. 

 

He has a little easel usually folded away in his cupboard that he shares with Lance. Lance has so much blue, so many sweaters and silky things pouring out that Keith’s own red and black are all but hidden. Keith only takes out the easel when he feels like truly pouring himself out, takes his paints and sneaks to the roof of their college, a privilege given to him by Allura knowing someone who knows someone who knows the janitor, good old Georgia. Keith takes freshly baked cookies from Hunk to Georgia each week as thanks. He always says the cookies are from Hunk, too embarrassed to admit he had fumbled himself through Hunk’s gentle instructions.

 

The roof is even hotter so Keith is glad for his light clothes and his cap. He puts on his earphones and turns the music loud. He sets his easel out by the little concrete blocks serving as his seat and table. He sets the canvas on it, snow white and soft and invitingly empty. 

 

He begins to paint, hums to Starset and Starlight and sings alone about being lost in space. He pours blue and black and purple, sprinkles stars on the canvas and draws a hand, reaching for the endless horizons. 

The little astronaut on his canvas is Keith, some aspect of him who reached his dream of going to outer space, seeing Earth as the speck of dust it is. 

 

Keith smiles as he pulls back to look at it. He rubs his eyes and glances up, squints. The light is fading quickly from the sky, leaving him suddenly in a hurry to pack his things. There is a flimsy fence surrounding the rooftop, but Keith’s had enough accidents in the dark to know it would be dangerous to stay any longer. Maybe he’ll need to find himself a lantern for next time. 

 

The paint isn’t dry enough so Keith has to be extra careful when leaving the roof. As promised and as usual, he closes the door and locks it. He puts the key to its little hiding place, makes sure no one knows where to look. 

 

Lance is in their room when Keith returns - as is everyone else. Various voices call out to Keith and he meets their eyes, smiles a little at Shiro. Shiro smiles back.

“Did you paint something new?” Shiro asks and pats the space next to him, right on Keith’s bed. Lance’s bed has been overtaken by the terror crew of Lance, Hunk and Pidge, Lance’s chair overcome by Allura. 

 

Keith flushes, blames the warm air he just came from. “The paint isn’t dry,” he murmurs as he shows the painting to Shiro. 

 

The other exclaim immediately.  But Keith keeps his stubborn head and refuses to show the painting until Shiro has gotten his fill. 

 

Damn, but Keith will never get tired of the way Shiro’s eyes brighten up at the sight of Keith’s drawings. Shiro is so soft. His biceps are pretty much as thick as Keith’s waist and he has a jawline of a Greek God, but his eyes - no one has eyes like that. Keith watches Shiro watch his painting, fingers hovering over the little astronaut, lost in space. 

 

“Damn,” Shiro whispers. “It’s gorgeous, Keith.” His smile is sun-bright. 

 

Keith loves him. Keith loves him so. “T-thanks.” He swallows and takes the painting out of Shiro’s hands, turning it around. The others compliment it too, Allura claps her hands her hands together and tells Keith that her mother paints too but prefers cats and horses to landscapes of people and places. 

 

“You’re so good at that,” Hunk says. “Why did you never go for an arts degree?” 

 

Keith places the canvas to dry by the window. He shrugs. “It’s just a hobby. I only show these to you guys because you - “ The edges of his vision seep darkness. Keith rubs his eye. “You’re my friends. These things are really personal.” 

 

“Well, we are certainly honoured,” Allura says, ever the diplomat, ever the princess. 

“Thank you, Keith,” Shiro says and Keith returns to his spot next to his friend. Shiro wraps his arm around Keith’s shoulders and squeezes. “It makes me happy to know you trust me.” 

 

Allura clears her throat.

 

The tips of Shiro’s ears turn pink. “Us. I mean us. Duh.” 

 

Lance not so subtly snickers. “Duh,” he mimics and hides behind one of his sparkly mermaid-pillows when Keith shoots him a glare. 

 

They laugh, they chatter. The room is small with all of them there but for now, Keith loves it like this. Shiro’s arm doesn’t move from his shoulders, not even when Keith looks at his lap and closes his eyes. Little bright lights dance beneath his eyelids, reminding him of the stars. 

 

*

 

A few leaves slip from the threes Keith walks to the eye doctor. Keith stuffs his hands into the pockets of his light, sleeveless hoodie and blows hair from his face. He should have gone for a proper ponytail instead of a few measly bobby pins. The wind blows him off his course and he stumbles, wavers on his way. He’s never liked doctors, not since his father’s accident and subsequent death. Instead of healing and recovery, anything to do with doctors and nurses makes Keith think of death. 

 

_ It’s just an eye doctor. They’re just gonna check up on me. Give me a prescription for glasses. It’s fine. It’s going to be just fine.  _

 

The doctor is an impossibly tall, impossibly pale man named Ulaz. He has cold hands but a gentle voice. He directs Keith carefully yet sternly. 

Look there. Look here. Tell me what you see. Tell me what you see. 

 

The tiniest row gives Keith trouble. His fingers curl on the armrests of his chair. The contraption helping him keep his head steady for the eye exam feels like it’s choking him. 

 

Ulaz pulls it away from him. 

 

“How long have you been having trouble with your vision?” Ulaz asks, a little frown between pale brows, indescribable dark in his eyes. He is a man one can’t lie to. 

 

Keith’s eyes prickle with salty sorrow. “For quite… a while,” he admits. Longer than he can truly say. “The.. blurring is fairly recent, just some weeks.” But when the lights had gone out, hadn’t he felt like the world was shrinking? 

 

Ulaz sits close to him, bright lights illuminating the paleness of him, giving him a ghostly pallor. Ulaz turns to his computer and begins to tap. “Any history with eye illness? Relatives with cataracts, glaucoma et cetera?” 

 

Keith gulps. “I - I don’t know my family.” He lifts his chin. Anxiety claws at his intestines, his throat, wraps around it and squeezes.

 

Ulaz glances at him. “It’s quite alright.” Ulaz tap-tap-taps on his computer. “When was the last time you saw an eye doctor? Or had an eye exam?” Ulaz’s face is unreadable. 

 

Licking his dry lips, Keith sits up straighter. “My - my last check-up was when I was six, I think.” He bites his lip. “The years have been quite… uh. Full. So I just haven’t. Managed. And I’ve always been healthy.” 

 

Ulaz hums. “That is very unfortunate to hear. I will need you to come tomorrow for vision field testing.” He turns fully towards Keith. 

 

Keith frowns. “What? I feel fine. What’s going on?” 

 

Ulaz looks at him, long and hard and silent, a warrior giving his last rites. Ulaz with the long mohawk and long, cold fingers. “Mister - ah, Keith. I will not lie to you.” 

 

Keith squeezes the armrests of his chair hard. Is this it? Another loss? Another sorrow to be added to Keith’s little box? “I’m gonna need something more than just glasses, am I?” 

 

“I will recommend you get glasses, especially since you do need them for your lectures. It’s still a month or two until Christmas break, is it not? But yes. I am detecting deterioration in your  - “ whatever Ulaz says, becomes static. Ulaz’s figure blurs in Keith’s eyes. Deteriorate. His eyes. In his eyes. At the back of them, cells and bits and pieces that used to go there don’t go together. Who knows when it had even started? Keith had been bumping into things at nights before, years before. He had always thought his eyes just - 

 

Why hadn’t he seen a doctor earlier? 

 

He snaps out of his thoughts, knuckles white. 

 

Ulaz withdraws his hand from Keith’s shoulder. “Please calm down. I will make you an appointment for tomorrow if the time fits you. We will look more into your eyes then and see the extent of the change.”

 

“T-Tomorrow is fine.” Keith’s voice rings hollow. “Any time. I’ll jus call in sick.” All he hears is static. 

 

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and takes a deep, deep breath. He does a couple more exams with Ulaz, lets himself be nudged, turned, looked at. He stares into the reflection of his own eyes, that faint purple glow they sometimes get in the right light and doesn’t see anything different.

 

*

 

“I’m heading out,” Keith says the next morning, to the half-asleep Lance. Lance murmurs something incomprehensible and turns his back to Keith. Keith looks at him, the lanky form of his long-time friend and bites back a sob. 

 

Keith is drop dead tired himself, unable to fall asleep to the thoughts of something is wrong with my eyes. Keith has looked after himself ever since he was six and still struggles with accepting help from his closest friends. 

 

This is something he can’t share. Not yet. 

 

He meets up with doctor Ulaz once more to test Keith’s field of vision. Keith doesn’t meet Ulaz’s indescribable eyes. 

Look here. Look there. Tell me what you see. Can you see this? Can you see this? Can you see this? 

 

Fear claws its way through the locks Keith has placed in his heart, pushing away sorrow and anger and everything Keith doesn’t want to deal with, making cracks into Keith’s carefully crafted armour. Everything is a chaos inside of him. 

 

Shiro. He needs Shiro. 

 

Keith goes through the testing, hears more bad news, hears the word deterioration, the grave grumble of Ulaz’s voice. 

 

Ulaz doesn’t lie that it’s all going to be okay. Ulaz gives him pamphlets and phone numbers and prescription for glasses. For as long as Keith needs them. Ulaz doesn’t have to say it, it’s clear on his face and in his words.

 

Keith’s vision will continue to worsen. 

 

*

 

Keith’s knees are weak when he heads for Shiro and Allura’s apartment, barely remembers to get off the bus on the right stop. He rides accidentally to the wrong floor. Knocks frantically on their door.

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, breathless.

Allura opens the door, a surprised oh forming on her lips. “Hello Keith, I didn’t - “ 

A little rudely maybe, he pushes past her, anxiety clawing at him and ripping him to shreds. “Is he here?” 

Allura closes the door. “Hun, he still has work. Shouldn’t you have work too?” 

Keith gulps. “I called in sick.” He bites his lip. He needs Shiro. “I’ll wait for Shiro in his room.” 

“Do you want lunch? We have some leftovers,” Allura calls after him but doesn’t follow him. 

“No thanks,” Keith calls back and closes the door to Shiro’s room after himself. 

 

The darkness is absolute. 

 

Keith bites back a whimper. He stumbles for the light switch and breathes a sigh of relief when the room floods with light. With a flush he tugs off his sneakers and neatly places them by Shiro’s wardrobe. Keith places his bag by them and heads for Shiro’s bed. Of course it’s neatly made. 

 

“He won’t mind, right?” 

 

Keith gently pulls back the bed cover and folds it at the end of the bed. He climbs between the sheets and buries his face into Shiro’s pillow. Inhales. Instantly Keith relaxes, falling into these soft pillows and blankets that smell like Shiro. 

 

No problems chase Keith here. 

 

He falls asleep like this, cuddled up under the heavy weighted blanket, face buried in the pillow, every sense filled with comfort and home and Shiro. 

 

*

 

Keith dreams of a kiss.

 

**

 

Keith dreams of a woman and a baby, cries in his sleep when he realizes the faceless, nameless woman is his mother and the baby is him, nothing but a small bundle of thick black hair and sleepy eyes. 

 

It’s those tears that Keith wakes up to, to a big warm hand on his cheek and a gentle voice asking him if he’s alright. Shiro’s eyes swim in his vision, grey as the rest of him, a shock of white and a flash of black. Keith reaches for him before he can stop himself, still one foot in the dream. Keith’s hands are clutched in big warm hands, one of gunpowder metal. 

 

“Keith, you’re alright, it’s alright,” Shiro whispers, pulls Keith back from the dark and the longing. 

Keith takes a deep, panicked breath. He wraps himself around Shiro, Shiro wraps himself around Keith in return, begins to rub Keith’s back.

 

Shiro doesn’t ask. Shiro merely holds him. 

“You’re alright, Keith. I’m here. You’re here, in my room. You seemed to be having a distressing dream.” Shiro draws large circles with his fingers on Keith’s back. “You’re alright.”

 

Keith inhales. He’s here. Despite his losses, he has Shiro. Shiro won’t leave. “You won’t leave, right?” Keith’s fingers dig into Shiro’s shirt. Keith buries his face in Shiro’s neck.    
  


Shiro squeezes him. “Oh, Keith. Where does this come from? Of course I won’t leave. I’m right here. I’m your friend, Keith.” Shiro begins to sway him, gently. Shiro’s hands slide into his hair and begin to caress. 

 

Keith takes the opportunity to cling, claws at Shiro’s shirt, wants to be closer, wants more, more than Shiro can give him. So Keith fights against his tears and his desires but lets himself be held. Shiro doesn’t ask and for that Keith loves him even more. Keith clenches his teeth, eases up his grip on his friend but doesn’t move away. He lays his cheek on Shiro’s strong shoulder and sighs deeply. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers.

“Shush,” Shiro says. “I’m your friend. I’ll always be your friend. Do you feel better?” Shiro pulls back and cups Keith’s cheeks, looks at him with such kind eyes that Keith’s heart tightens painfully. The light above is both too bright and not bright enough, leaving Shiro a little blurry around the edges. 

 

“I feel stupid,” Keith huffs and pulls himself away, quickly wipes his eyes on his shirt. 

Shiro snorts. “No need to feel so, buddy. You know my door’s always open for you. We’ve taken naps together on my bed before. Well, I was surprised but - when you need to sleep or chill or just relax, you know I’m here” Shiro rubs his back again, gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Did you see the eye doctor already? Your cheeks are really pink and your pupils look a little odd - “

 

Keith bites his lip. Shiro goes quiet and doesn’t ask anymore. Keith’s jaw tightens. “It’s nothing. I’ll just have to get glasses.” 

 

Shiro nods. “Okay. That’s not bad, right? You look good in glasses, I’m sure.” Shiro smiles gently and doesn’t seem to mind when Keith doesn’t smile back. “Now - “ Keith’s stomach grumbles loudly. Shiro helps him off the bed with a laugh and brushes Keith’s neck with gentle fingers. “Come on, we’ll feed you and then I’ll drive you to the dorm if you want to. Of course, you’re welcome to stay the night.” 

 

Keith has had sleepovers at Shiro’s before. Sleepovers at all of his friends but  - he’s only in love with one of them. 

 

“It’s okay,” he says and focuses on the strong line of Shiro’s shoulders and the scent of food emanating from the kitchen. The floor is pleasantly warm under Keith’s bare feet. Allura offers him a cup of black tea and a careful hug after getting his  confirmation of it being alright. She floats to her own room, leaving Shiro and Keith by themselves. 

 

“I’ll be fine,” Keith says when Shiro sits him down. “You don’t have to baby me.” 

 

“Sorry,” Shiro says, cheeks flushed. “But I - I just want to take care of you.” He warms up another plate of leftovers in their microwave and places it in front of Keith. 

 

Keith huffs. “You always take care of others. Sometimes I think you’re too nice.” The dream remains on the edges of Keith’s mind, gnawing at his feelings, leaving him feeling oddly hungover. Keith digs his fork into the food. 

 

Shiro snorts. “Oh, shut up you.” His cheeks turn a deeper red and he rolls his eyes, fondly. He makes himself a cup of tea too, whisks the matcha powder like a true pro. It smells enticing and warm. Shiro’s eyelashes are so long. 

 

Keith realizes he’s staring and blushes himself. He stabs his fork down furiously. 

“Did you make this?” It’s sweet potato, something green and something utterly delicious. 

 

Shiro clears his throat. “Uh, yes?” 

 

Keith chews, glances at his friend and the adorably ruffled hair. In another life, this would be them having breakfast in the home they own together. In this life, it’s best friend having yesterday’s leftovers. Either way, Keith gets to watch Shiro, gets to eat what Shiro’s skillful hands had made. 

 

“Man, I love you,” Keith whispers, staring into the sweet potato. “This is delicious.” He sucks his lip, carefully glances up to see the most fond expression on Shiro’s face, a light in his eyes, smile slowly spreading, revealing pearly white teeth. The endearing little crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes deepen.

“I - “ Shiro sniffles. 

 

Keith freezes. “Wh- what, don’t cry - “ 

 

Shiro wipes his eyes quickly. “It’s just - I know it’s not easy for you. I love you too, buddy. You’re my best friend and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He reaches across the table to grab Keith’s hand and squeeze it. “Now let’s eat and ignore me blubbering like a dumbass, okay?” He grins. 

 

Keith offers him a half-hearted smile back. I love you too, buddy. Keith clears his throat. “Y-yeah. Yeah. This is honestly really good. You’ve gotta show me how to cook sometimes, all I can do is some basic shit.” Which is an understatement. But there is love in Shiro’s cooking, much like there is love and heart in Hunk’s baking. 

 

“I could show you but this is probably like, one of the five things I can do,” Shiro admits. “Otherwise I’m kind of a disaster in the kitchen. Don’t even let me get started on how bad I’m at baking.” He rubs his neck. “Thank God we have Hunk for our sugary sweets, right?” 

 

Keith rolls his eyes. “Why didn’t I know this before? That you’re bad at something?” 

 

Shiro flushes. “Oh, stop it.” He shakes his head and continues to eat. 

 

They don’t need to fill up the silence with unnecessary chatter. It’s Shiro’s presence alone that’s enough to fill up Keith’s heart. 

 

*

 

It’s not quite a lie to say that Keith will need glasses for some time. It’s more of an omission of the whole truth: the loss of his vision could take weeks, could take months, could take years. That is the trickery of the disease rolling inside Keith, gnawing at the insides of his eyes. Ulaz had mentioned genetics, hereditary, too many words Keith can’t quite figure out or doesn’t want to understand. 

 

All he knows is that his eyes are failing on him. 

 

Slowly, rapidly, not even Ulaz can quite tell, but apparently the deterioration had started ages earlier. Keith had never thought otherwise about not being able to adjust to night time. He can’t tell when it started. He can’t remember. 

 

He lies to his friends that it’s just glasses. 

 

He dreams of wandering alone in the dark, no one’s hand to hold. 

 

He dreams of his mother again, heart tight, teeth clenched at the memory of her. He wipes tears into his pillows and never admits a thing to his friends. 

 

They have their movie nights and game nights, they go through their heated work days and meet up whenever they can. Keith’s co-worker Nina listens to his medical problems with a sympathetic look and gives him a pat on the back and tells him she gets it, really, it can’t be that bad because Keith is young so it's going to be fine, right? 

 

Keith doesn’t quite have the heart to tell her he could end up completely blind by the time he’s thirty. He pushes the whole issue out and instead gets himself a pair of glasses, grimaces at spending his student loans on something like this but it helps. They have dark red rims and they frame his eyes. Best of all, Shiro stutters at the sight of him. 

 

“Told you you’d look good in them,” Shiro whispers to him, out of range of the others. 

 

Keith grins. “Makes me look smart, you mean.” 

 

Shiro huffs. “You’re the smartest person I know, Keith. Don’t sell yourself short.” He’s taken to giving Keith a hug every day, unprompted but definitely wanted. Keith never lingers in the hugs, no matter how much he wants to. Despite Shiro’s invitation, Keith never stays over for naps or overnight. It would be too much.

 

Keith drowns his problems into work and preparing for the upcoming autumn and the continuation of their college work. Keith can almost pretend he’s just a regular guy in his early twenties, with a great group of friends and with a great summer job and a clear plan for the future. 

 

Getting used to his glasses takes time but his vision seems to stay good with them so Keith lets himself relax. At least for a while. 

 

*

 

A week passes. Another week. Keith still pushes off his glasses with shaking hands when it’s time for sleep. 

 

“You look nice in your glasses,” even Lance says. “But this is not about that, right?” He sits on his bed, probably texting Allura. He’s too inquisitive for his own good sometimes.

 

Keith squints at him, a flash of uncomfortable fear running through him. Keith can’t see all the details in the dim light of their dorm room, even though Lance is sitting right there, across this cramped room. 

 

So Keith looks away. “It’s nothing, Lance. Just leave it.” 

 

Lance stares at him for a long, tense moment. “You know, it’d be nice if you trusted us more,” he says finally. “And I don’t just mean allnighters and stuff. But whatever goes through that thick head of yours, dude. We can’t all be Shiro but we’re your friends.” 

 

Keith sits down on his own bed and chews the inside of his cheek. “You guys are my friends.” They had been talking about him. Had Shiro done so too? Had Shiro told them about Keith’s freakout? Had Shiro told them about the little good night-texts, had - no. Keith can’t think like that. Shiro is his heart. 

 

“Doesn’t always seem like that,” Lance huffs. “But whatever man. I know we don’t always see eye to eye but I’m on your side. Believe it or not.” 

 

Keith looks up, mouth already open in a retort but Lance has turned his back on Keith. 

 

Keith sighs deeply. How can he start the conversation, how can he tell his friends this? They know most of his past, his departed mother and dead father and the numerous foster homes but only Shiro knows more than most. In return, Keith knows the deepest things Shiro has gone through and Shiro thinks about. 

 

_ Hey guys, I’m gonna have to change my glasses into a cane soon. _

_ Hey guys, soon you’re gonna have to help me get around. _

_ Hey guys, I think NASA is not gonna get a scientist out of me. _

_ Hey guys, I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared. I don’t want this.  _

_ Hey guys, I can’t -  _

“Shiro, I need to see you right now.” Keith is hiding under his blanket, another week later, the end of summer knocking on his door. The air is still stifling but winds have finally picked up and began to whisper of colder times. Keith’s summer job is ending in a week. It’s still the weekend, but Keith can’t imagine going there anymore. Not with the fear that each morning his vision will just be worse. 

 

Keith is unraveling, becoming undone. He’s made of straw and thread and starlight, blown apart by the first gust of wind. 

 

Keith’s glasses are neatly tucked away on his desk, all the lights off in the room. He’s chased Lance off to the movies with the others, had told him Keith only needs a nap. He keeps his eyes closed, his phone pressed to his ear. 

 

_ “Keith, uh - I’m in the middle of something but - Keith, you don’t sound so good. Where are you?” _ Something rustles on Shiro’s side. 

Keith swallows down anxiety. It never used to be like this. He can’t pull up his anger for this, it doesn’t help, it would sap his already draining energy. There is nothing to do but call Shiro, to swallow down nausea. He doesn’t do this, ask for help from others, lean on others. He’s been on his own since he was six and he’s survived.

 

But Keith is so tired of surviving. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers. “My room.” 

Shiro sighs. _ “Oh, Keith. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please don’t go anywhere. Okay? Please say it’s okay and you’ll be okay waiting for me.” _ Shiro’s voice is smooth, sweet honey. 

Keith nods. He swallows hard. “Okay. It’s okay. Come soon, please.” Chaos of guilt and nausea. His body quivering, unraveling, deteriorating. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and takes a deep breath, holds it, lets it out. It’s a little trick he heard from Shiro long time ago: takes a deep breath for five seconds, hold it in for five seconds, breathe out for yet another five. And again. And again. Until his heart stops racing and his hands stop quivering. 

 

He doesn’t know the time that passes, he only knows the creak of the door and Shiro’s voice calling his name. 

 

“Oh, buddy,” Shiro whispers and sits on the edge of Keith’s bed. “Can I touch you? Is that alright?” 

Keith draws in a shaky breath and tugs back the blanket just enough to peek at Shiro’s blurry figure. Keith reaches and Shiro reaches, their hands connecting, intertwining. The spaces between Keith’s fingers are too small for Shiro’s fingers, but Keith would form himself into anything for Shiro. 

“Cuddles?” Shiro asks, gently, ever so gentle. “You don’t have to tell me what’s on your mind, I’m here for you anyway. Sorry I took a while.” 

 

Keith closes his eyes again and tugs Shiro down. “Retinitis pigmentosa.” 

Shiro curls up around Keith, tugs Keith close to him, pulls the blanket over them. “What’s that?” Shiro whispers and runs his fingers through Keith’s hair. 

 

Keith’s heart stutters inside his ribcage. “It’s just not the glasses, Shiro.” Keith slips his hands around Shiro and grabs his shirt, digs his fingertips in like he wishes he could dive right through Shiro’s skin. “My eyes, they - it’s genetic, apparently. Retinitis… whatever is apparently - well. It’s some form of it. The doctor was pretty sure of it. It’s why I haven’t pretty much ever been able to see properly in the dark, I never thought - “ Keith’s voice cracks. “I feel so fucking stupid. Why didn’t I ever go for a check-up? Why didn’t I get one done? They could have - “ the words are stumbling in his head and on his mouth. 

 

Shiro strokes his hair. “You’ve had a hard life, buddy. Don’t blame yourself. Your foster families didn’t take care of you like they should have.” 

Keith inhales shakily. “The doctor - the doctor couldn’t tell me how rapidly it would advance. It depends on a lot on the person. But - in a month, in a year, in ten years… sometime in the future I will be considered legally blind. It could even never happen but my vision will worsen. I’ll - ” The word blind stings him, leaves nothing but ash on his tongue, sand between his teeth. 

 

Shiro exhales. “Oh, Keith,” he whispers and squeezes Keith tighter. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m here for you, with you.” He kisses Keith’s hair again. “We never know what the future holds, what our lives hold. Whatever happens, you know me and the others will be by your side. You understand that, yes?”

“Yes.” Keith sighs. He rubs his face on Shiro’s shirt. “I’m so fucking scared. I can’t - I’ve lost enough. I’ve fucking lost enough - “ his anger bubbles up, familiar. “I’ve lost enough Shiro. I can’t lose my fucking sight. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the others. I feel like I finally have a life that’s - I feel like I’m finally living, not just surviving.” The tears are salt and blood on his cheeks. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life in darkness.” 

 

Shiro whispers his name, a love in it that can’t be just Keith’s imagination. “I’m here,” Shiro whispers, a little helplessly. “I’ll hold you for as long as you want, starlight. Forever, if that’s what you need. Keith, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you.” 

 

Keith pours himself out on Shiro and Shiro takes it all and loves him through it. 

 

Shiro promises to keep the seriousness of the situation from the others but makes Keith promise in return that he won’t hide it from Shiro anymore. Under Shiro’s concerned eyes, Keith has no heart to say no. 

 

*

 

Keith begins to smile back at his friends, begins to accept invitations to movie nights and game nights and concerts again. He paints more furiously than ever, spends most of his evenings on the roof, taking great comfort in the swish swish of his paint brushes. 

 

He can’t live in fear. 

 

He leans on Shiro further and thinks that he should confess, he should sit Shiro down and tell him, in the clearest words possible: _ I’ve been in love with you for years. Please be in love with me in return. You mean the world to me.  _

 

Keith chickens out, finds other words to say, accepts Shiro’s embraces and fond gazes. Keith lets himself have hope that maybe his disease will not progress fast: maybe he’ll have decades of full vision. He can deal with the fact that nights are pitch black to him and he can no longer see the stars. He keeps them in his heart and paints them again and again, knows how they look. They sparkle and whisper on his canvases and Keith leaves them to his room for Lance to see.

 

Lance, for once, keeps his snarky comments to himself. Merely says that Keith’s skill is advancing. 

 

Keith makes sure to be asleep or at least in bed when Lance returns to the room: that way Keith doesn’t have to stumble around in total darkness and he can pretend the only dark he sees is the dark in his dreams.

 

**

 

He can’t see in the dark at all anymore. There is a black space on the edges of his vision now constantly. Keith keeps this a secret from all but Shiro. Keith’s vision has become like an old movie reel, breaking apart at the seams. 

 

Oh, rationally Keith knows it’s not the end of the world. But Keith is tired of losing things. He’s gotten comfortable in his life, he’s learned how to love with all the force of his fierce heart, but now the fear has returned. If he’s left helpless, will he be left alone? 

 

*

 

Autumn comes. Autumn goes. 

 

Winter comes. Winter goes. 

 

Keith hangs on.

 

Spring comes. Spring goes.

 

Keith remains in love with Shiro. Their little group grow closer. They’re Keith’s family, more than his foster families have ever been. Keith holds them close and loves them.

 

Another summer comes and goes. Still Keith doesn’t confess. Keith leaves himself in Shiro’s hands and does his best to hold onto Shiro in return, keeps himself mindful of the trauma Shiro has experienced, looks away from Shiro’s scars when needed. Gives Shiro hugs when Shiro needs them the most. 

 

The others throw inquisitive glances at them but they don’t ask. There is something private in the interactions of Shiro and Keith, a fondness that isn’t there with the others. 

 

Another autumn comes and goes. 

 

Keith’s vision worsens. He walks into the door, blames it on exhaustion. He fumbles around in their dorm room and blames it on exhaustion too. He gets another check-up with doctor Ulaz, another long, tense moments of staring down machines and told to close one eye, open the other, told to look at letters and look at blinking lights. 

 

“I am not going to sugarcoat it for you,” the doctor says. 

 

Keith doesn’t have to hear the rest. Despite doing his best to keep his eyes protected, despite doing all he can, the situation is worsening rapidly. It’s Keith’s damn luck to be among the rare ones with the type of RP that progresses rapidly.

 

Instead of never going blind, instead of going blind in decades - Keith is well on his way to developing tunnel vision, everything blurring. 

 

*

 

“I’m here, Keith, I’m here, starlight,” Shiro whispers to him during yet another anxious night, this time in Shiro’s bed. They’ve had a nice movie night, the others scattered to sleep in Allura’s room and the living room. Bowls of snacks have been left behind, a few bottles of ciders littering the floor. They’ll all clean up in the morning.

 

For now Keith is cuddled up against his friend, his secret love. 

“You mean the world to me,” Keith murmurs. He’s had a little bit to drink, enough to make everything pleasantly fuzzy. It’s too warm like this, under the covers with Shiro’s arms around him but moving away would mean being left alone in the dark. 

 

“You mean the world to me too, buddy,” Shiro whispers. Nothing more does he say. 

 

It’s easy to fall asleep like this, arms around each other, skin warm from the touch. Keith slips into a peaceful dream.

 

Sunlight peeks through closed curtains, from the crack between dark thick fabric and the wall. Shiro wakes first as usual, at the very early hours. He squints at the whisper of sunlight and sighs. 

“You’ll wake Keith,” he murmurs at the sun. Yet Keith sleeps, hands set on Shiro’s chest, lips parted, eyelashes fluttering. 

 

Shiro watches him, gently tucks a few warm strands behind Keith’s ear. “Your hair has gotten long, sweetheart,” Shiro whispers. “You look more beautiful everyday.” Shiro traces the curve of Keith’s ear, the sharp line of his jaw. “I’m here for you, starlight. Always. Whenever you need me. As your friend, as your brother, as your - “ Shiro sighs. “What am I saying? I have no right to ask anything of you. All I can is to be with you.” 

 

He keeps on stroking through Keith’s long strands, keeps himself quiet, listens to the soft sounds of awakening in the apartment. Someone barefooted thuds to the kitchen. The coffeemaker rumbles on. 

Finally Keith’s eyelashes flutter, the corner of his mouth twitches. In the early sunlight, there is a purple haze in his eyes, the colour of a galaxy, the space held in both of their hearts.  Shiro is weak in front of those eyes. They’re unfocused at first, Keith’s lips parting to form words, his fingers grasping at Shiro’s tank top. 

 

“Hi,” Shiro whispers. He cups Keith’s face. 

Finally Keith focuses on him, eyes wide. Keith smiles, a soft pink on his cheeks. “Hi.” His nose wrinkles. “Coffee,” he grumbles and lowers his gaze. How long had Shiro been watching him? Had Keith drooled in his sleep? Subtly Keith licks his lips. 

“Someone’s already up making it,” Shiro says and shifts to get up but Keith grabs him tighter.

“They can bring it to bed,” Keith murmurs. “Don’t wanna get up.” His heart has begun to race rapidly, his breath catching in his throat. He lifts his gaze again, meeting Shiro’s little smile. 

 

Shiro rubs his thumb on the corner of Keith’s mouth. “Keith, I - “ 

 

The door bangs open. “Goooooooood morning, lovebirds!” Lance singsongs, voice rough from the amount of alcohol he had chugged last night, already a facemask slapped on. He’s holding a tray in his hands. “Don’t you two look cute and cozy.” Without regard to Shiro shifting unsubtly away from Keith and Keith squinting, Lance hops on the bed and puts down the tray. 

 

“Christ,” Shiro groans.

“Screw you, Lance,” Keith says and struggles to sit up. 

“It’s ass o’clock but our dear darlings Allura and Hunk have been making breakfast. We figured we could let you two sleep in, but man -” Lance grins and shoves a piece of toast in his mouth.. “Come on, drink up, eat up.” He gets up from the bed and waves. “Sorry not sorry for interrupting lovebird time!” 

 

He leaves in a whirlwind, both Shiro and Keith pink-cheeked and avoiding each other’s eyes. 

“Coffee,” Keith murmurs. He clears his throat loudly and sips the pleasantly hot, dark drink. 

“Coffee,” Shiro agrees. He squeezes Keith’s shoulder.

 

I love you, Keith thinks, the gentle truth of those words wrapped around his heart.

I love you, Shiro thinks, a secret he’s held onto for the past few weeks. He’s always loved Keith but this: he can’t tell when his love turned to blushing, to near-kisses, to wanting to protect, to hold onto Keith forever. 

 

*

 

Another winter comes and goes. 

 

With spring, comes the truth: Keith’s field of vision has shrunk even further, a foggy glass surrounding him and the world. The doctors tell him his diagnosis with stern voices, the glasses no longer helpful. Not all those with some form of RP go blind, some do well with just good enough glasses. Keith sees the difference between light and dark, but details - details fade away into memory and past. 

 

The first time his fingers curl around the handle of his cane, his trainer’s voice in his ears, he bites his lip hard enough to make it bleed. 

 

Keith is heading for graduation and the end of his scholarship. Keith is heading for a life of fog and the loss of independence. But he doesn’t wish to hide himself or his feelings anymore. So he sits all of his friends down in their dorm room and tells them all. He doesn’t have to see them to know he’s made them cry. 

 

“Oh, starlight,” Shiro whispers next to him, arm around his shoulders. 

 

Then there are more arms, more whispers of love and friendship until Keith’s bed creaks under the weight of all of them. He grips all of them tight, endures Allura’s kiss on his cheek, endures Hunk’s tears on his shirt, Lance’s surprising silence. He’s theirs and they are his. 

 

“Maybe we should get you a dog,” Lance says after their tears have been dried. 

“He would need to live in an actual apartment first though,” Pidge huffs, from somewhere near the floor. 

Keith keeps his eyes closed. “Dog would be nice,” he whispers. “The cane - it - “ He sighs, doesn’t know whose hands gently rub his cheeks. “It makes me feel like a grandpa.” 

“Well, you have some grandpa-tendencies already, like always wearing woollen socks - ow, Pidge!” 

“Lance, you’re so fucking - “ 

 

Keith snorts and listens to his friend squabble. “Maybe one day. Once I’ve graduated.” 

 

“We could - “Shiro murmurs, close to his ear. It’s Shiro’s arm around his waist, keeping Keith close. “Oh well. Let’s talk about a dog later, yes?” 

 

“After your wedding, you mean - haha, didn’t catch me this time, Pidge!” by the sounds of struggle, Lance has managed to escape with his humour and bits intact from Pidge.

 

Keith leaves the thought of a guide dog in his mind. He’s somewhat aware of how long of a progress it is, he can’t just walk in and get one - but it would be nice. 

 

*

 

The summer finds Allura moving out an apartment of her own, leaving her room free. Shiro’s shy invitation offers Keith a chance to live there. He takes it, uncertain of his new condition in this familiar space. He wakes when Shiro does, gently ushered back to bed because it’s still five o’clock in the morning. Shiro knows how Keith likes his coffee. Shiro moves the furniture out of his way.

 

The summer finds Keith working hard to gain back his mobility and work around his disability. Work to accept it. He’s graduated now, official papers in his pocket but with this, he doesn’t know what to do. He could go for a Master’s like Shiro or get a job like Hunk: combining his two loves, engineering and food. But instead Keith is left adrift. 

 

He trains himself with the cane, body burning with anxiety that he can’t trust his surroundings or himself. He focuses on the training with the same single-minded fire that he’s focused on his studies before. More than once Shiro has to fetch him from a street three blocks from their apartment building, has to deal with Keith’s rage and frustration and the subsequent guilt at yelling at Shiro who doesn’t deserve any of it. 

 

Shiro is in good terms with his neighbours in the building and the surrounding houses, as expected, and soon they learn to know Keith as well. Keith doesn’t always realize there is someone nearby and has more often than not poked someone with his cane.

 

Accepting his condition is still ways away but Keith is not a quitter. 

 

He follows Shiro to the gym as well and together they learn the ways of the devices again. 

“Here, put your hands here,” Shiro directs, a blur of light and calm flickering in Keith’s vision. The light is too bright so Keith keeps squinting. Shiro holds his hands gently, promises to stay nearby in case Keith needs more help. 

 

Keith struggles. 

Keith fights. 

 

Keith still doesn’t confess to Shiro but it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Keith gets to spend most days and evenings with Shiro, some nights held in Shiro’s arms. Shiro has taken to calling him starlight out of bed too, lets the pet name slip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

 

Shiro is with him every step of the way. 

 

Keith drowns his frustration and anger under love instead. 

 

*

 

Shiro is with him when Keith finally starts the progress of finding a guide dog. He takes up a few online classes, finds himself a little job as Hunk’s assistant in the small company he works at. Every day starts with good morning from Shiro and ends with a good night. 

“Are you sure you’re - you’re okay with getting a dog, us getting a dog I mean,” Keith murmurs one evening as they’re watching a movie. Keith mostly watches the black blob of the TV, the flickering changes of lights and shadows. He listens to Cate Blanchett’s narration. Shiro’s arm is around him, as usual. 

“Buddy, we’ve known each other for how many years now?” Shiro chuckles. “I love dogs. Besides, the dog is going to be for you. Or are you trying to tell me you wanna live alone already?” 

Keith shakes his head. “No.” 

Shiro kisses his temple. “Good. Because I don’t want you to leave me either.” 

“You’d burn your Mac and Cheese if it wasn’t for me,” Keith murmurs and buries his face into Shiro’s neck. 

Shiro huffs. “Excuse you, I can cook five things fantastically. One of them happens to be the best Mac and Cheese of your life.” He slips his fingers under Keith’s sweater, just enough to tease his hipbone. 

Keith squirms. 

Shiro laughs. He tickles.

Keith squirms again, tries to get away but Shiro is relentless. Keith giggles, fights back halfheartedly as he’s shoved on his back.

“You’re so cute, Keith, so cute,” Shiro murmurs. He stops tickling but doesn’t pull himself away. 

Keith’s eyes are wide, his fingers curled on the soft fabric of Shiro’s tank. “Shiro,” Keith whispers.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers back. “I - can I?” His breath is warm on Keith’s face. 

Keith closes his eyes. “I - “ He licks his lips and shifts upwards, finds Shiro’s lips. 

 

They part for him, Shiro’s fingers curling around his hip bones. 

 

Keith’s soul bursts into light and butterflies and stardust, he whines and pushes up harder. Shiro cups his face and kisses back. Shiro’s lips are ridiculously soft. Keith whimpers and then - he shoves Shiro away, breaks the kiss and breaks his heart.

“What  - what are you doing, Shiro?” 

 

Shiro makes a choked sound, his thumbs on the corners of Keith’s mouth, still gently rubbing. “I-  I thought I was kissing you.” Shiro takes a deep breath. “I - I’m sorry.” 

 

Keith closes his eyes and turns his head away. “I - we got carried away. It’s fine.” Keith’s heart races. They had kissed. Shiro’s lips had been as soft as Keith had imagined. “It’s fine,” Keith whispers again. He pulls Shiro against himself, lets Shiro rest his head on Keith’s chest. “That was my first kiss.”

 

“Oh:” Shiro groans. “Oh, man.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Keith says. He keeps his eyes closed. 

 

“Your heart is racing, starlight,” Shiro whispers. His thumb brushes Keith’s throat. “Did you want - did you want it to be - “ 

 

Keith bites his lip. He can feel how red his face is. He hides it behind quivering hands. 

 

“Did you want it to be someone else?” Shiro shifts, his breath once more brushing Keith’s heated skin. “Keith? Did I cross the line?” 

 

Keith peeks through his fingers, the light and shadow not doing justice to how Shiro looks, in his mind’s eye. “I wanted it to be you.” 

 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, utterly breathless. 

 

Keith hides his face again.

 

“Keith, please don’t hide from me,” Shiro gently grabs Keith’s wrists and pulls them from his face. “You wanted it to be me? Your first kiss to be me?” 

 

Keith nods. Even this close, the details are hazy, Keith’s shrunken world revealing only a whisper of what the world truly is. “Fuck it,” he murmurs. “Shiro - when I said I love you, I mean it. I’m in love with you.”

 

“You are?” 

 

Keith squirms. “Stop staring at me.” 

 

Shiro laughs. “Oh, starlight. Can I kiss you? Let’s sit up.” He pulls Keith up, pulls him close. 

 

“You’ve been there for me all the time, always,” Keith murmurs, finds Shiro’s face, nuzzles his jaw. He maps Shiro’s face with his hands, the little dimple on his left cheek, the proud nose, smiling lips. “I love you.”

 

Shiro kisses his fingers. “Let’s find us a dog together. It can be our baby.” He’s smiling, his laughter the most beautiful sound in the world. 

 

Keith wraps himself around Shiro, finds himself being kissed again, his inexperienced lips parting with ease. He tickles Shiro’s undercut, swallows down Shiro’s laughter. 

 

Eyes closed, held like this, Keith is safe, Keith is home. 

 

*

 

The progress of getting a guide dog is extensive and intense. With Shiro, Keith researches various breeds and various sites, imagines life with a dog who will be there constantly, checking up on him, being his eyes. Lance throws in a joke that Shiro is already Keith’s guide dog, a precious little golden retriever. Keith doesn’t have to see him to know Lance’s squawk has to do with Allura’s little giggle. 

 

Lance recommends a poodle.

 

Pidge recommends a bear dog.

 

Shiro likes golden retrievers. 

 

It’s Allura who looks over Keith’s shoulder, whispers the name Kosmo out loud. “He’s four years old, a mixed breed. His fur is very black, white stripes on his face.”

 

“Kosmo, huh?” Shiro rubs Keith’s back. These days, they’re always touching. 

 

Keith smiles. “Should we meet him? What breed is he? Just mixed?” 

 

“Apparently he’s a lot. Northern Inuit Dog. German Shepherd. That probably is why his fur is such an interesting colour. This says he’s very loyal and loving,” Allura continues. “I have a good feeling about this fellow.”

 

“What do you think, starlight?” 

 

“Aw,” murmurs Lance from behind.

 

Keith rolls his eyes fondly. “Let’s go meet him. Well, maybe ask around a bit first but I like the name Kosmo. And he sounds cute.” Keith brushes the computer screen.

 

*

 

Their little friends group still do their movie nights and game nights, working with Keith’s disability. He tells them to never tiptoe around the issue, as he’s already felt estranged enough.  One movie night, the one right before they’re about to go get Kosmo home, Keith finally clears his throat.

“Shiro - Shiro and I have started dating.” 

Shiro squeezes his hand. 

 

Lance squeaks, Pidge huffs - “I knew it, you nerds” - and Allura claps her hands. Hunk sniffles. 

“Wait,” Lance stutters. “I thought you two had been an item for like, years? You honestly telling me you guys started dating just now?” 

 

Keith blushes. 

Shiro stammers. “I - I - yes - a week ago, two actually - “

 

“What the hell man,” Lance huffs. “Keith was never touchy-feely with the rest of us like he’s with you, Shiro.”

“You two weren’t very subtle,” Hunk says sweetly. 

 

Keith groans. “Well, excuse me. Can we finish the movie now.” He pulls Shiro against him. “And I know you’re gawking at us, Lance, stop it.” 

 

Lance huffs. “You’ve been such a grumpyface ever since we got to know you, Keithy. It’s kinda creepy to see you make such soft faces at your boyfriend.”

 

“Boyfriend,” Shiro murmurs. “I love the sound of that.” 

Keith groans. “Shut up, Lance. Shut up too, Shiro.” 

“Never,” Shiro says and kisses his jaw. 

 

*

 

“Keith, this is Kosmo. Kosmo, come here boy - this is Keith, he would really like to have your helping paw.” 

 

The instructor’s voice drowns away. There are dog sounds all over, dog smells and Shiro’s hand, comforting on Keith’s back, Keith’s cane in his hand, the other one reaching forward. He flinches when a cold nose presses against it. Kosmo sniffs Keith’s palm and then tentatively licks him. Keith smiles, carefully. 

“Hello. Hi, boy.” He pushes his cane into Shiro’s hands and crouches. Keith reaches, both hands, palms up. “Kosmo,” he calls. “Hello, Kosmo. I’m Keith.” He licks his lips, his palms clammy. His hair has been braided, it’s gotten long enough to tickle his hips. Kosmo steps closer, his cold nose sniffing Keith all over. Carefully Keith brushes him with his fingers, palms around Kosmo’s snout. “Oh. You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” 

Kosmo sits patiently, his tail banging against the floor. Keith strokes Kosmo’s soft, soft fur, presses himself closer, his nose to Kosmo’s snout. “You’re so soft, Kosmo. I think I want to take you home.” 

Kosmo huffs and licks his hand. The corners of Keith’s eyes prickle with tears. 

 

“I think he likes you already,” Shiro whispers nearby. He takes Keith’s hand. “Let’s take him home.”

 

*

*

 

An autumn comes that finds Shiro and Keith in a new apartment, a bigger one. The fading sun rays find the lazy pair, now engaged, in their bed, chatting. Kosmo has wormed his way between them, laying on his back, tail wagging wildly. 

“I love you,” Shiro whispers, reaching across Kosmo for Keith’s hand, grabbing it, squeezing it.

Keith squeezes back before beginning to rub Kosmo’s fluffy chest. Kosmo’s back leg thumps in reaction. “I love you right back.” Keith buries his face into Kosmo’s fur. “I’m home.”

“And you are safe,” Shiro says. He reaches again, his fingers tangling with Keith’s long, long hair. 

 

This is where they belong, a house full of their things and full of their smells: Keith's little atelier set in one of their spare rooms, filled with easels, drying paintings. Shiro's office set in another room. Kosmo's dog bed in the corner of their living room. 

This is a house Keith knows every inch of. This is a life he's finally settling into. 

 

He's in love. He has love. 

 

"I deserve this life," Keith whispers.

"Yes you do," Shiro whispers back.

  
  
  



End file.
